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We Grow Through You
David Castillo Opening reception: Saturday Dec 13, 4pm - 7pm
Closing reception: Friday Jan 30, 2026 at Alpaca We grow through you.
Our roots ripple beneath your foundations, opening chasms in what you once believed was permanent. Limbs twist through chain link, concrete heaves under the pressure we send upward. The hubris of your massive constructs—rising in what was once Home for all living beings—begets the naivety of a young animal. Our leaves take only from the sun. Your hands grasp for everything. We can exist in harmony, but you choose consumption over balance. When you have collapsed under the weight of your own insatiable hunger, we will expand again—silently, steadily—feeding back into the soil, pulling carbon from the air, and burying the brittle memory you tried so desperately to preserve. |
We Grow Through You is a series of photographs, an intimate installation, and an experimental audio piece that explores the haunting persistence of plant life as it grows in, on, over, and through manmade structures. These moments of disruption we perceive as rebellion, are simply acts of being. A plant only knows to grow.
The photographs, intended as an ever-growing collection, are printed using the platinum/palladium process on kozo washi paper–embedding precious metals into handmade plant fibers to form the image. This process, known for its longevity (lasting hundreds, perhaps thousands of years) reinforces the idea of endurance as the prints will last as long as the paper’s fiber. It preserves what is often overlooked–the places where green reclaims gray.
At the center of the space: an installation of severed limbs—cut plant matter bearing the scars of human intervention—woven with a loop of magnetic tape. This tape, stretched and wrapped through the branches, plays field recordings gathered while making the images. As it runs, it scrapes against bark, slowly degrading, whispering and breaking—until what we’ve made can no longer be heard.
We have shaped an unnatural world, drawing borders around what should be wild. The touch of our hands lingers even in the farthest reaches of the earth—visible, enduring, and often scarring. There is no longer a “true” nature without reminders of humanity.
She does not forget. Slowly, steadily, She reclaims what was taken. Tendrils rip concrete, roots twist rebar, and vines swallow the outlines of our ambition. This exhibition is a quiet witnessing of that return—a reminder that the wild continues to grow whether we are looking or not.
The photographs, intended as an ever-growing collection, are printed using the platinum/palladium process on kozo washi paper–embedding precious metals into handmade plant fibers to form the image. This process, known for its longevity (lasting hundreds, perhaps thousands of years) reinforces the idea of endurance as the prints will last as long as the paper’s fiber. It preserves what is often overlooked–the places where green reclaims gray.
At the center of the space: an installation of severed limbs—cut plant matter bearing the scars of human intervention—woven with a loop of magnetic tape. This tape, stretched and wrapped through the branches, plays field recordings gathered while making the images. As it runs, it scrapes against bark, slowly degrading, whispering and breaking—until what we’ve made can no longer be heard.
We have shaped an unnatural world, drawing borders around what should be wild. The touch of our hands lingers even in the farthest reaches of the earth—visible, enduring, and often scarring. There is no longer a “true” nature without reminders of humanity.
She does not forget. Slowly, steadily, She reclaims what was taken. Tendrils rip concrete, roots twist rebar, and vines swallow the outlines of our ambition. This exhibition is a quiet witnessing of that return—a reminder that the wild continues to grow whether we are looking or not.
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Invocation of Moss
Where there is rot beneath the root–I grow.
My tongue is lichen, whispering to deaf stone–
Carrying weight from the silence of my own.
Not the ash, but the offspring of those who caused the burn scar.
Born of the architects and contrite with their destruction,
Only ever finding comfort
In company with the death-eaters deep in loam.
Through steel and stone
She will grow
And we will remember her name
As we worship the Earth triumphant
Where there is rot beneath the root–I grow.
My tongue is lichen, whispering to deaf stone–
Carrying weight from the silence of my own.
Not the ash, but the offspring of those who caused the burn scar.
Born of the architects and contrite with their destruction,
Only ever finding comfort
In company with the death-eaters deep in loam.
Through steel and stone
She will grow
And we will remember her name
As we worship the Earth triumphant
David M. Castillo is an artist from New Mexico whose work in photography, installation, and sound reflects a lifelong dialogue with the land—its grief, endurance, and quiet defiance. Rooted in themes of ecological grief, resilience, and the quiet force of nature, their work explores the tension between built environments and the living systems that persist beneath and within them.
Often incorporating analog and experimental processes—such as platinum/palladium printing on handmade washi paper—David creates pieces that reflect both fragility and endurance. Their practice is influenced by a deep reverence for decay, reclamation, and the cyclical rebirth of the natural world.
Born of a generation inheriting ecological collapse, David creates work that mourns and honors simultaneously. Through immersive, textural installations and slow image-making, they invite viewers to confront the marks we leave behind—and witness the quiet power of the Earth as it grows through.
Often incorporating analog and experimental processes—such as platinum/palladium printing on handmade washi paper—David creates pieces that reflect both fragility and endurance. Their practice is influenced by a deep reverence for decay, reclamation, and the cyclical rebirth of the natural world.
Born of a generation inheriting ecological collapse, David creates work that mourns and honors simultaneously. Through immersive, textural installations and slow image-making, they invite viewers to confront the marks we leave behind—and witness the quiet power of the Earth as it grows through.
